the gardens we grow
by kerrykins
Summary: A perfect summer day in the Hamptons.


Andy wiped a bead of sweat from her brow and sighed. The sky was bright blue, white clouds drifting by serenely. A light breeze caused some loose tendrils from her bun to flutter in the wind.

She glanced at her wife, whose gaze was intent as she carefully uprooted a plant from its pot. Her signature curls of white cream fell over eyes, and with a graceful toss of her head, she looked up at Andy. Miranda's expression was one of tender exasperation. "Andrea, you're suffocating those tulips. They need to breathe."

"Sorry," Andy shook her head, frowning at the potted plant in front her. Dirt was caked all over her fingers, embedded in her nails. She snuck a glance at Miranda's hands, which were of course, more or less clean. The diamond on her new wedding ring caught the light, shining iridescently. "Hey, not fair. Your hands actually look normal."

Her words were met with an raised eyebrow and a towel being thrown at her. "I take it this is your first time gardening."

"Second, actually," Andy corrected her with a grin as she wiped her hands off. "When I was in first grade, we had to raise tomato plants. Mine died on the second day because I left it in my mom's car."

Miranda's lips quirked. "Oh, my apologies, clearly you're quite the expert. I now realise that this garden was a poor idea, as I'm leaving these flowers at your mercy. God knows all the inventive ways you'll end up killing them."

"Hey," Andy laughed, tossing the towel haphazardly at Miranda. Her wife dodged it with ease. "I'm a lover, not a killer."

"My legs beg to differ after the events of last night." There was a mischievous gleam in Miranda's eyes, one that Andy recognised. Her heart skipped a beat, and she cupped Miranda's cheek with her now-clean hand.

She craned in for a kiss, and though they'd done it a thousand times, a pleasant shock still coursed through her. Andy had intended it to be sweet and chaste, but she felt Miranda's tongue dart into her mouth, rough and hungry.

Oh. She slipped her other arm around the older woman's waist firmly, and revelled in the soft moan that escaped Miranda's lips. Her fingers tiptoed down to rest on her wife's thigh.

Miranda gasped and squirmed away, her eyes wide, a peachy blush dancing along her cheeks. "Andrea, we are not doing... this in the garden. We're not going to roll about in the dirt like wild animals." She said this crossly, as if Miranda wasn't the one who was so goddamn horny all the time. Andy raised an eyebrow skeptically.

"Besides, we'd flatten the flowers," Miranda added, as if she had to provide them both with one good reason as to why they should stop.

Andy winked at her. "All right, if you say so." Miranda rolled her eyes, and they resumed working, a comfortable silence stretching between them. There was the occasional chirp of birds, or leaves rustling from the trees, but other than that, it was quiet.

The sun shone on them warmly, and after a while, Andy felt like curling up into a ball in a patch of grass and taking a nap. A tired sigh from Miranda told her that they should take a break, so she rose from her feet, letting the trowel drop onto the ground. Dirt went in all directions, some spattering on her wife's trousers.

Miranda made a face. "Was that really necessary?"

"No. But we're taking a break. Come on, Miranda, I know you want to." The older woman looked unconvinced, so Andy furtively whispered, "There's a pitcher of iced coffee calling your name. Doesn't that sound nice?" The way Miranda's eyes glassed over almost made Andy jealous.

"Fine," she conceded, and allowed Andy to help her up. "We might as well just stop here for today, I suppose." Miranda stretched languidly, raising her arms above her head. Andy bent in front of her to begin picking up their gardening tools, when she felt Miranda set a hand on her behind. She almost dropped their trowels.

"Darling, don't take too long," she purred. Without another word, she sauntered off, and Andy tried to gather up the rest of the items as quickly as she could. Once she'd flung everything in the garden shed, she raced off to catch up with Miranda, who was walking a lot slower than she typically did, as if she was waiting for her.

The smooth cobblestone of the outdoor shower was warm under Andy's feet from all the sunlight earlier today. Droplets of cold water drizzled onto her, the smell of Miranda's lavender shampoo flooding her nose.

She'd always use it sparingly, because she wanted to have enough to last her forever. All it took was a whiff of it really, for all sorts of pleasant memories to come rushing back. She'd smelled it when they'd slow-danced at their wedding, Miranda's chin resting on her shoulder as music swelled in the background. When they had their first kiss under the night sky of Paris, illuminated by the dusty light of lamp posts. Even when she'd stepped into Miranda's office for the very first time, those watchful, sapphire-blue eyes assessing her.

Andy squinted at the label of the bottle. She found it odd that it wasn't branded with the letters, "Miranda's Shampoo" because the scent and Miranda herself were nearly indistinguishable from one another. She uncapped the plastic top, and sniffed it, feeling a smile stretch across her face.

Andy gripped the pitcher and poured some of the iced coffee into one of the glasses, frothy brown liquid filling the glass. She handed it to Miranda, and he watched as the older woman raised the glass to her lips and took a tentative sip. Her eyelids fluttered shut.

"Well, what do you think?" Andy asked, as Miranda proceeded to down the remainder of her drink.

"Spectacular. More, please."

Andy glowed at her praise, and refilled Miranda's glass.

Gentle light streamed through the large windows of the kitchen, the granite countertops sparkling as the smell of dinner wafted enticingly through the air. Andy's side of the kitchen was covered in vegetable peels and other miscellaneous bits of rubbish, while Miranda had her ingredients neatly organised into their separate bowls. In the background, soft guitar music played, its plaintive notes honeyed and bittersweet.

Andy watched as Miranda stirred the mustard-yellow Le Creuset pot, pausing to sample the soup with a wooden spoon. A striped Kate Spade apron was tied around her waist, and she gazed out the window, as if lost in thought.

"Miranda, think fast!" Andy tossed a peeled carrot at Miranda, who caught it in a grey oven mitt, and wheeled around with an outraged expression.

"No flying food in our kitchen, Andrea. Do you remember what happened last year when you and the girls were cooking blueberry pancakes?" Miranda set the carrot down and began slicing it, the knife thudding against the wooden board.

"I was trying to be Remy from Ratatouille," Andy explained with a straight face, and the older woman snorted, her back still turned to her. "If you were half the cook Remy was, then we wouldn't have had burnt pancakes for breakfast, nor would there have been blueberry pulp all over the floor." Miranda dumped the carrots into the pot, then faced Andy with her arms crossed and an eyebrow arched accusingly.

Andy shrugged. "All right, so cooking just isn't my thing. I'm better at other stuff, anyways."

"Such as?"

She pondered this for a second. "Oh, I'd say I'm good at making you smile. And that's pretty amazing."

Miranda blinked at her, then smiled alluringly, her eyes folding at the corners. It made Andy's heart swell with affection, and she knew she'd given a good answer.

"Come here," her wife murmured softly.

Andy hurried over to her, and was immediately enveloped in an embrace. Miranda smelled like rosemary and paprika, and her arms wound around Andy's waist. Feathery, white hair tickled her cheek, and the older woman's touch was gentle, as if any pressure would shatter this moment.


End file.
